Hatred
by Undead Dungeon Master
Summary: Ancient Magics, Part 1: When mistaken identities and lies land Richard and Zedd in prison, it falls to Kahlan alone to rescue herself from the clutches of a confessed soldier whose undying love has become murderous rage.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**"Another Day, Another Confession"**

Deep in the forests outside Brennidon, Kahlan and Richard strolled along old cart trail, with Zedd following them from twenty paces back. Richard was discussing how he knew which way they were heading.

"You can't just trust in the sun to navigate," he explained. "Sometimes the sun hides behind clouds, so you need to know how to read the land."

Kahlan tried to listen, but when he explained these things his face lit up and he became so excited, she adored him for it. A huge goofy grin was plastered across his face as he went on about moss growing on trees or some silly old thing. He was gorgeous.

An arrow flew past them both, splitting the distance between them. From behind them Zedd shouted a warning.

A dozen D'haran soldiers boiled out of the forest, preceded by a hail of arrows. A dozen D'haran soldiers shouted, screamed and died under the midday sun. They had been patrolling the forest for Resistance. They had found the Seeker and his companions.

Kahlan spun on the ball of her foot, sweeping her leg out to keep balance, and neatly ducked under the slashing blade of a D'haran soldier. He was not so nimble and struggled to pull back on the swing, having not met the resistance he expected. Drawing her leg in Kahlan came fully about while rising fast, her blades flashing out. A bright red line appeared on the soldier's throat as he fell, drowning in his own blood.

Already another soldier had stepped up to take his place. Kahlan cast a sidelong glance about the battlefield. Richard had split off a quad of soldiers for himself, and Zedd battered aside a half-dozen more with a wave of his hand, hurtling them back into the trees. Richard was lost in his battle frenzy, and would leave no survivors. If they wanted information, Kahlan would have to act now.

As the soldier lunged at her she side-stepped his thrust and reached out for his throat. Her hand met his breast plate and slid ever so gently along his mail to come to a rest around his neck. Instantly he became soft and limp in her grip, dropping to his knees. Kahlan simply let go of herself, and the power which constantly roared through her blood and bones poured out from her, flowing effortlessly into the mind of the D'haran, consuming his small and miserable soul like a wildfire consumes dry summer grasses. Her body trembled with ecstasy, and she felt her legs become weak and rubbery beneath her. As she fell to one knee, her new worshiper caught her arm.

"Command me Confessor," he said as he lifted her to her feet, keeping her steady.

A few minutes later and she had all she needed from the soldier, what little information a common foot soldier such as he might have. Nothing of value. As they suspected, the troop was a random patrol. They'd stumbled on the trio's camp by sheer luck. Or misfortune, considering the result.

Richard asked what they should do with him now, suggesting that an extra sword might be handy. Kahlan looked at the soldier, who contemplated her with that sad and longing stare that all of the Confessed shared. She loathed that look, hated it and what it represented. She suppressed a shudder of revulsion, and for the briefest moment imagined what it would be like to see Richard stare at her with the empty eyes of one of the Confessed.

"No," she cried, more stridently than she intended. Composing herself she added "We'll send him back to his garrison, with a mission to sabotage their operations."

"You can't do that!" exclaimed Richard. "Darken Rahl has mandated the execution of any D'haran soldier who does not fight to the death. He'll be killed for sure, and we can't send him knowingly into certain death."

Kahlan was taken aback. Of course Richard was right, she hadn't even considered what would happen to the soldier, so distracting had been the image of Richard confessed. "Then we'll send him to Brennidon, to join up with the Resistance there. It's only a few day's march from here. We can give him some food from our stocks. He'll be fine."

Zedd, who had till this point been staring intently into the forests around them, agreed with Kahlan, and so it was decided. They outfitted the soldier, whose name was Damark, with provisions enough to get him to Brennidon, and set him along his path.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**"The Free City"**

Damark worked his way down through a gully, following a narrow deer trail. He had stripped off his tabard and now wore his chainmail unadorned. He was simply a warrior, no longer a soldier of D'hara. As he walked he hummed a lullaby to himself, something his mother had sung to him as a child, something he could not recall the words to. It was of no matter though, because he was writing new words to the melody. Words that celebrated his new mother, the Mother Confessor.

He imagined her face, smiling down on him as she caressed his neck. The memory brought with a pang of guilt. To think only a moment before she touched his heart, he had planned to drive a sword through this beautiful angel. Thankfully the grace and kindness of his beloved Mother Confessor had saved him. Of that corrupt and rotten Damark there was nothing left. His thoughts were clear now, ordered.

So he would make the long and dangerous trip to Brennidon, and he would offer his services to the Resistance, and if they asked him to perform some form of suicide mission, he would do so gladly. Nothing would be greater than to die in service of his beloved Mother Confessor.

From across the gully, under the shadows of a copse of willows, eyes clouded by cataracts watched Damark.

* * *

Zedd poked the fire and watched as embers took flight into the warm summer night. The sun would set soon, and the forest would grow cold. Richard had not yet returned from his foraging, and given that he'd promised Kahlan rabbit for dinner, would likely be awhile longer. Kahlan had left Zedd here only a few minutes ago, looking for water. He starred at the growing fire. It would be simplicity itself to turn the stack of logs and kindling into a roaring bonfire with the judicious application of wizard's fire, but Zedd found he enjoyed the simple pleasure of tending a fire.

The sound of loud gong broke his reverie, and Zedd jumped to his feet. His thoughts had been distracted by the fire, and he couldn't place the direction of the sound. Immediately he dropped his stick and stood, looking about frantically.

"Richard!" he called. "Richard, where are you?"

Zedd grabbed his staff and began running off into the forest, calling out Richard's name. With no real idea in which Richard lay, he ran back and forth and to and fro, tromping recklessly through underbrush. He had gone perhaps a hundred meters from the camp when he heard Richard's voice in the distance. He called out for the boy, and Richard's responses drew closer. A moment later Richard came crashing through the underbrush, a freshly cleaned pair of rabbits in one hand, the Sword of Truth in the other.

"Zedd!" he cried out. "What's wrong? Where's Kahlan?"

Zedd stopped in his tracks and bent over, breathing hard and heavy. When he caught his breath, he looked up at Richard, who was casting about frantically for sign of Kahlan.

"She's not with you?"

"No!" Richard replied anxiously. "Where is she, what's happened?"

"Nothing boy, nothing." replied the wizard, as he started to laugh. "I was afraid for moment that all was lost, but it's a false alarm."

Zedd and Richard began walking towards the camp, but Richard remained anxious. "But where's Kahlan?"

"She's about, I'm sure." said Zedd, as he waved away Richard's worry. "Probably taking a bath."

Later, at the camp, Richard began preparing a spit for the rabbits, but his eyes were constantly searching the perimeter. "It's grown dark Zedd, perhaps we should go search for Kahlan."

"No need for that," came Kahlan's voice from the darkness. She entered the camp, her green dress rustling through the underbrush. She was drawing a brush through her hair, and from the way the light of the fire played off it, Richard could tell it was wet.

"Where have you been?" Richard asked.

"I found a hot spring just over the ridge, and decided to take a bath. Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. See Richard," said Zedd. "I told you she was just taking a bath."

Kahlan looked quizzically at Zedd, who studiously ignored her, and then at Richard, who could only shrug, not understanding himself.

* * *

Damark poked the fire with his stick, and it crackled angrily in response, spitting embers at him. His thoughts were on his beloved Mother Confessor when he heard the distinctive snap of a twig. He tensed and listened carefully, but continued to prod the fire, allowing whomever was sneaking upon him think they retained the element of surprise. There was nothing but the hiss and crackle of the fire and the gentle rustle of the wind high in the trees. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, and a chill run up his spine.

"Who's there?" he called as he turned about, grabbing a partially flaming log as a torch and holding it up. Hot coals rained down on his hands, but his thick leather gauntlets protected him. He peered into the dark woods, but saw nothing.

Wait no, there he thought, discerning a manlike shape in the darkness. The figure stepped forward, but his features were hidden entirely by the dark hooded cloak he wore. Raising a withered and liver-spotted hand, the cloaked figure spat a magical invocation and a crackling sphere of purple energy sprung from the tips of his finger and slammed into Damark, hurtling him end over end through the air. He collided forcefully with an old oak, and unsurprisingly the tree did not give way. Damark collapsed in a heap beneath the tree, unconscious.

The cloaked figure raised his hand and snapped his bony fingers. A quad of D'haran soldiers rushed out from deeper in the forest and gathered up Damark's inert form.

* * *

Richard eyes lit up as the trio entered through Gyrfalcon's city gate. Gyrfalcon was a free city, or as free as any city in the Midlands could be, and granted some degree of autonomy in exchange for hefty tributes to Darken Rahl. But it wasn't the sight of (moderately) free people that brought joy to Richard's heart, but rather the sight of horses.

"Horses!" he exclaimed, pointing excitedly and grabbing Kahlan's hand. Despite herself, she let out a squeal of glee as he dragged her racing along through the crowd to a large pen where several fine horses stamped about. "Horses!"

"Yes Richard, those are horses." she laughed, and cast a quizzical glance at Zedd, who only smiled his broad dopey smile as he caught up with the pair. It warmed his heart to see Richard so clearly happy after all they'd been through in Grimhaven.

"Zedd, how much money do we have left?"

"We have enough to get by, Richard, and no more. Why?"

"We've walked half the length of the Midlands, and it's high time we bought ourselves some horses. I've had my eyes open for a set of decent mounts since we left the Tower of Ebon, but so far I've seen nothing but old farm nags." Richard paused for a moment to admire the horses. Near the gate two young men who were busy brushing down the horses took note of Richard's interest. "These are high quality riding horses. These are better than anything I've seen in the Midlands."

"You have a good eye for animals, my friend," came a booming voice from inside the corral. A broad shoulder man in a red jacket and blue turban, with dark skin and big toothy smile, reached out a hand for Richard to shake. "I'm Abbazar, and these are my horses."

Richard returned Abbazar's handshake and complimented his horses. The merchant laughed and agreed as he sized Richard up.

"Ha, friend, I have heard of that sword." chuckled the horse trader as he eyed the blade hanging from Richard's belt. "You are the Seeker?"

"I am the Seeker, yes." he replied. Kahlan shot Richard a deadly look, but Richard brushed it off, sensing no threat. "I'm interested in horses, three of them. For my friends and I."

"You may have my three best horses my friend." said the horse trader, without a hint of joviality in his voice. Suddenly somber, he spoke quietly. "I travel all over these lands, selling my horses. In every town Rahl's thugs steal a horse, steal my profits, all so I can do my duty, show my loyalty."

He spit on the ground to demonstrate his loyalty.

"No merchant can live under these conditions, and if I can aid you in your quest, then I am proud to do so," he proclaimed, and Richard believed he meant it. Abbazar gestured to his herd, saying "Please, take your pick of any of these animals. It is the least I can do for you, who have done so much for the Midlands."

Richard turned to Kahlan and waggled his eyebrows at her. "You should trust people more often."

Kahlan only sniffed the air, and decided she didn't like what she smelled.

After the deal was done, the trio sought out an inn. Richard lead all three horses, and cooed at them as they walked. He smiled at Kahlan, but she continued to seem tense. Richard gave her a gentle poke and teased, "Come on Kahlan, don't look gift horses in the mouth."

Zedd snorted at the terribleness of the gibe, but Kahlan cast a glance back at the horse trader's corral. "He was hiding something from you Richard. I don't like it."

* * *

Damark awoke with a shock. Someone was emptying a bucket of cold water on his head. He was lying on his back, on cold hard wood. He tried to sit up, but his arms were pinned. He struggled and felt the bite of leather straps crossing his wrists and chest, around his neck, and cried out in rage.

Suddenly a face loomed over him, an ancient and weathered face that was little more than flesh pulled over a skull. Eyes darkened with cataracts starred down at him, and suddenly the dreadful face's thin lips split revealing gnarled and rotten teeth set loosely in diseased gums.

"He is awake, my lord."

Darken Rahl stepped out from the shadows of the darkened amphitheater, his arms crossed over his chest, his fingers stroking the stubble on his chin. He considered the soldier carefully. "And you're sure he has been confessed?"

The withered old wizard starred down into Damark's eyes as he spat out the words "The Mother Confessor is a witch."

Damark reacted as if he'd been slapped, suddenly raging against his bonds and cursing the old wizard.

"Oh yes, my master," cackled the old wizard. "Most definitely."

"Excellent." Darken circled the table, clutching his wrist behind his back, squeezing tight, fighting the urge to join the old wizard in his laughter. But the thought of the deeds the wizard had promised him, those thoughts made him giddy. "This had best work, Melchior."

Melchior turned to his table of instruments and selected a long gleaming silver needle from the table. A sphere of copper was set in the needle, at it's midpoint, and square of copper was affixed to the head. Each was stamped with strange characters and heirogylphs. Melchior pricked his finger with the tip of the needle.

"Fortunately I was able to study the Sharkiya before Giller and the Keep of Ebon were lost, and create these pale imitations." He set the needle down with its brothers and picked up a second needle, there were a dozen of the wicked instruments in all. "While these tools are not nearly powerful enough to create powers like those of a Confessor, I am certain they will work for our current purposes."

Damark twisted and struggled against his bonds, trying to get a look at the tools the wizard was discussing. When he caught glimpse of the long, thick needle, his heart sank.

So it would be death by torture then, he thought. Resolve settled in, and his jaw tightened. I will be strong for my beloved Mother Confessor.

"I hope so, for your sake Melchior," said Darken. "I've suffered too many disappointments from wizards of late."

The necromancer only smirked as he positioned the tip of the needle over Damark's neck, sliding it through a wide copper rivet set in the collar. When Melchior pressed the needle in and Damark screamed with agony, Rahl found himself smiling.

* * *

Zedd waved his hands through the air, drawing smoke and flame from the inn's fireplace, making them dance through the air. The smoke formed into the shape of a gar, while the flame became a tiny Seeker wielding a tiny Sword of Truth.

The children seated at his feet laughed in delight and amazement, and though they might pretend to pay attention to their ale and cards, Zedd could see he had the attention of even the cynical men of Gyrfalcon. It amazed Zedd that these simple parlor tricks and a well-told story could very well do more to bring down Darken Rahl than any amount of wizard's fire. Tales of the Seeker were tales of hope, and hope was their most powerful weapon.

The sound of loud gong banished these idle thoughts, and with a wave he dismissed his illusions. He searched the inn's common room for Richard but found no sign of him. Immediately he stood and with one great stride stepped over the heads of the children and began running towards the stair.

Bounding up the steps, taking them two at a time, he reached the second floor in a flash. He ran past the first door, and then the second, and upon reaching the third intoned arcane words and the door before him burst open.

Burst open to reveal a half-nude Kahlan, corset in hand. She shrieked in surprise and lifted the corset up to cover herself while turning from the door. Zedd yelped, and quickly shut the door. He slapped his palm to his forehead, and yelled an apology through the door. Kahlan's curt reply sent him scurrying back down the stairs.

As he reached the common room, Richard was entering through the door that lead to the stables, and Zedd slapped himself again. He actually recalled Richard saying he would tend to the horses. Richard walked past him, heading towards the stairs, and took note of Zedd's pained expression.

"Something the matter, Zedd?"

"That damn girl takes her corset off too often."

Richard responded with a puzzled look.

"What?"

"Nothing," muttered Zedd as he took Richard's arm. "Come, join me, the people wish to meet the Seeker."

As Zedd lead Richard into the common room they were greeted with much fanfare, but Zedd's mind was preoccupied.

* * *

Richard shook hands with the last of the inn's patrons, wishing them a good night as they filed out of the tavern, and then returned to his seat, leaned back in the chair and let out a contented sigh. He looked around and saw Zedd slouched in a large backed chair, softly snoring, and decided to let the wizard rest. The barmaid dropped a mug off at Richard's table, then made a final sweep of the room, gathering up plates and empty cups. Richard thanked her for the mug, and rescued a half-eaten plate of fruit and cheese from her tray.

Smiling and feeling quite proud of himself -- an evening of receiving adoration as a hero will do that to you -- Richard stepped lightly as he bounded up the stairs. He walked past the first door, and reached the second, his room. He didn't stop, simply smiled to himself, and walked down to the third door.

Balancing the plate of fruit and cheese precariously on the mug, he rapped sharply on the door.

Inside Kahlan was drifting off to sleep, happy to finally be resting in a bed and not cold, hard earth, when the sharp knock at the door startled her to wakefulness.

"Thank you for remembering to knock Zedd," she yawned, "but I'm sure it can wait till the morning, whatever it is."

"Kahlan?" came Richard's puzzled voice from the other side of the door.

Kahlan sat up in her bed, as a uncertain rush of emotion overcame her. Longing and trepidation battled for control, and finally-- clutching her blanket to her chest -- she responded quietly "Richard?"

He didn't respond immediately, and she knew he hadn't heard her when he knocked again a moment later and called her name again. Gingerly she slid out from the covers and quietly padded across the room. She reached the door and grasped the handle, but couldn't bring herself to open the door.

"Richard, is that you?"

On the other side of the door Richard's eyes lit up.

"Kahlan?" he asked.

"Yes Richard, it's me." She prayed he couldn't hear the longing in her voice. "What do you want?"

On the other side of the door Richard held up the mug and plate, feeling foolish even as he did so.

"I have a mug of warm milk, and some fruit and soft cheese. I thought you might like something a snack before you go to sleep. Can...can I come in?"

Kahlan turned her back to the door and fell against it. She ran her hands down her sheer slip, imagined Richard's reaction to seeing her in such a state, and swallowed hard as she realized how much she wanted Richard to see her like this. A knot of trepidation formed in her stomach.

"I don't think that would be a good idea Richard."

"Oh," he replied, crestfallen.

"I'm sorry," she offered. She desperately wanted to open the door, but feared that if she gave in to that desire, it would be a short and slippery slope to giving in to other, stronger desires.

"No, I wasn't thinking," he suggested. "I'll just leave it here then."

They stood in silence for a moment. Kahlan heard Richard set the plate and mug down, and then after an unbearably long silence, the click-clack of Richard's boots receding as he retreated to his room. She sunk to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

She didn't know how much longer she could bear rejecting him.

* * *

Lightning flashed as storm clouds gathered around the topmost battlements of the Tower of Baran Kur. Melchior and Darken Rahl stood on a balcony, surveying the land below. The chill winds bit into their flesh, and Melchior shivered as he drew his cloak around him. Darken Rahl simply enjoyed the wind in his hair, and the cold rain on his face.

Far below them the large double door gate of the tower swung open, casting light out into the dark night. A single rider launched from the maw of the tower, and sped off into the storm.

"Will he be able to find her?" Darken asked the old wizard.

"Eventually." was Melchior's response. "The Confessed have no special knowledge of their Confessor's whereabouts, but Damark will pursue her relentlessly. He should be able to pick up her trail from where she left him."

"And you're certain he'll kill her?"

"Most certainly," Melchior replied proudly. "Where once there was only love, now there is only hate. Unending, undying, limitless hatred and torment that can only be ended with the death of the Confessor."

"Excellent, excellent. The power of the Confessors is almost broken. When this new Mother Confessor dies, those few that remain will be cast into despair."

"And the Seeker my lord?"

"Without his Confessor, the Seeker will be lost. She is the only thing that prevented me from destroying him before, and once she has been eliminated, that fool will meet his end, and the prophecy will be averted."

Melchior only smiled.

Below them, along the dark road, Damark drove his horse as if he did not care if came up lame -- and he did not, so single-minded was his passion. Gripping the reins so tightly his knuckles were white, he cursed the name of Kahlan the Confessor and imagined the countless tortures he would visit upon her. The thought of her screams brought a feral grin to his lips.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**"Arresting Development"**

A few leagues from Gyrfalcon, Abbazar the horse trader was watering his stock at stream that ran by the side of the Eastern Road. The morning sun was busy burning away the dew and steam rose from the pastures alongside the trail.

This was Abbazar's favorite time of day, and he had woken his nephews up before the rest of the city to ensure that they were outside Gyrfalcon at dawn. He took a moment to breathe in the smell of morning in the Midlands.

Removing his turban and setting it aside the stream, he cupped a handful of water and poured it over his head. He splashed some more water in his face, and then stood. As he replaced his turban he barked out orders to his nephews. "Make sure all of the horses get water, don't let those stallions crowd out the foals."

Abbazar's nephews nodded and went about their tasks, and Abbazar took the opportunity to stretch his back. He was getting too old to spend every day in the saddle, moving from town to town, he thought, and looked forward to the day he could turn the business over to his nephews.

For a brief moment he felt a twinge of sadness that he had never settled down and had a family of his own like his brother, but the memory of his sister in law banished any such regrets. Abbazar's nephews had begged to join him on the road this year, so powerful was their desire to be away from their mother.

Abbazar was chuckling to himself, think of his poor brother, when a voice from the road hailed him. A well-built man with shaven head and weather-burned features, wearing unadorned chain mail and carrying a broadsword, was approached.

"Are you a horse trader?" asked the warrior, his eyes scanning Abbazar's herd.

"Indeed!" replied Abbazar, waving a hand towards his stock. "Are you looking for a horse? Best in the Midlands."

"Yes," replied the warrior. "My horse drew up lame a few miles back. I have gold."

"Then I definitely have a horse for you!" beamed Abbazar as he sized the man up and guessed how much gold his purse might carry, before turning to fetch one of his older mares. "All of my horses are quite fine. In fact, I just sold three to the Seeker and his companions. So clearly these are horses fit for a hero."

"The Seeker?" asked the warrior, suddenly excited. "You've seen the Seeker?"

"I ran into him back in Gyrfalcon, he bought horses for himself, and his companions. The wizard and the Mother Confessor," bragged the horse trader.

Abbazar allowed himself a little smile. He hadn't told the Seeker that having it known the hero rode an Abbazar horse would make his steeds the envy of every warrior and would-be hero. With the Resistance growing every day, there were many would-be heroes running about. The Seeker had been quick to buy his spiel about standing up the the D'harans, but the simple truth was the Abbazar knew how to sell horses.

Having selected a mare that looked to be in the warrior's price range, he tugged on her reins and drew her out, turning towards the warrior and smiling. This was his favorite part of horse trading, he thought, the art of the deal.

His smile disappeared in an instant as he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. He looked down in shock to see the soldier's sword piercing his belly, and a dark flower of blood growing across his shirt. He looked up at the warrior in confusion before collapsing.

Abbazar's nephews screamed, but neither was a warrior, and Damark made short, brutal work of them both.

* * *

Kahlan walked slowly between the stalls in the Gyrfalcon market, running her fingers along bolts of cloth imported from far to the south, taking time to smell all the flowers at the florist's booth. She carried a small wicker basket with her, and had gathered fresh fruit, cheeses, and breads. She was now searching for the perfect bottle of wine. She intended to apologize to Richard, and thought a picnic in Gyrfalcon's statuary park would do the trick.

The park would be romantic, she thought, and blessedly public. That would keep things from developing past her ability to control them.

She was wearing her green dress. Gyrfalcon was a free city, but Darken Rahl would have plenty of spies in any city this size, and it would do her little good to be seen walking about in the garb of the Mother Confessor.

An old woman hawking brass trinkets and copper baubles laden with paste gems caught her attention. The necklace she held up was offensive in its gaudiness, but the woman selling it was of such good spirits that Kahlan had to stop and talk to her, and so she spent a moment trading pleasantries and local gossip with the woman.

The woman told a joke and Kahlan laughed politely, smiling, but turned to look down the row of stalls, ready to resume her quest for a fine wine. Just at that moment she was surprised to see Damark step into the alley. He was only a few feet from her, but he stepped far enough into the alley that she was just out of his peripheral vision. He was scowling, and looking down the alley away from her.

"Damark?" she asked, taking a step towards the soldier. "Is that you?"

Damark turned at the sound of his name and found himself looking straight at the Mother Confessor. Instantly his hand went to the sword at his hip, and he drew his blade out in a sweeping arc.

Kahlan fell backwards, but kept her feet on the ground. Tossing the basket aside, spilling it's contents across the alley, she caught herself with one hand. Damark sword cut the air, narrowly missing her. Any faster and it would have been her guts that spilled out across the alley.

Spinning, she narrowly dodged a second slashing blow from the soldier, who was screaming obscenities as he attacked. Kahlan tucked and rolled, seeking desperately to create distance between herself and the soldier so she could regain her feet, but his attack was relentless, and it took everything she had to simply avoid his blows.

Kahlan didn't understand what was happening. How could Damark attack her? She had confessed him! His loyalty was absolute. And where did this speed and power come from? She had fought this soldier before, and he had been neither notably quick or fierce.

All about her people were screaming in panic, but above those screams she could hear the roar of city guard clearing their way through the throng, shoving people left and right.

Kahlan tumbled backwards, damning the awkward cut of her dress. More distressingly, she had miscalculated -- this alley market was far too narrow for fighting. Her back slammed into heavy barrel and her roll came up short. She twisted about, getting her feet on the ground. Before she could stand Damark loomed over her, bringing his broadsword down in a powerful chop.

Kahlan's fingers found the hilts of her daggers, tucked into her boots, and she drew them. Bracing the blades across her forearms she brought the daggers up in a smooth motion, forming a cross, shielding herself from the blow. Damark's sword crashed down on her blades with such tremendous force it sent a wave of pain through her arms, which went instantly numb. She wouldn't last long against power like that.

Gritting her teeth, Kahlan pulled her knees into her chest and rolled back as much as she could, before kicking out hard with both feet. Her boots connected with Damark's midsection and he was flung backwards. He staggered as he tried to regain the wind Kahlan had knocked out of him, while she leapt to her feet and raised her daggers, finally finding her fighting stance.

The city guards had reached them by this point, and they grabbed up Damark from behind. He screamed and cursed them, kicking and thrashing, but they were four and he was one, and with some great effort they wrestled him to the ground, forced his sword from his hand, and put the chains on him. His continued struggling earned him a loud thwack at the base of the neck from a guardsman's sap, and he sunk into unconsciousness.

"Hey you, drop those knives!" barked a guard in Kahlan's direction. She looked at him sceptically, and wrinkled her nose. Deciding that she was needed elsewhere, Kahlan chose instead to run.

The guard took a half dozen steps in pursuit before deciding that chasing some dagger-wielding doxie down alleyways would yield little after much effort, and waved good riddance to her.

* * *

Kahlan paced back and forth in the inn's common room, while Zedd stroked his chin and contemplated her story. Richard sat on the edge of his seat, hands clasped before him, brow furrowed. She was furious and confused. She didn't understand how this was possible, how Damark could have attacked her. She didn't even understand how he could be in Gyrfalcon. Angry too, because she hadn't had a chance to fight back. She felt a powerful need to hit something and break it.

"And you're sure it was Damark?" Richard asked. This was the third time he'd asked. She was counting. Kahlan stopped and turned on the ball of her foot, leveling Richard with a glare that sent him scurrying from his seat.

"Yes Richard, as I've already told you, I am positive it was Damark," she hissed. "Though since you keep asking I'm starting to wonder if you would be happier knowing completely random strangers have taken to assaulting me."

Richard ran a hand through his hair and stared intently at the floor, his brow still furrowed. Kahlan rolled her eyes as she resumed her pacing, certain that Richard was only pretending to think. She could imagine his thoughts. 'Maybe she's wrong and it wasn't Damark.' She glowered at him.

Richard slunk back, wondering why she insisted on taking her anger out on him.

Zedd was looking at her, frowning, one eyebrow raised. Kahlan melted, and took a step towards Richard."I'm sorry Richard. I know you're trying."

Richard smiled at her. Suddenly his eyes lit up. "I know! The Sharkiya! Darken Rahl must have recovered them from the ruins of the Tower of Ebon. Somehow he's figured out a way to use them to..." Richard paused, struggling to complete his thought.

"Impossible," retorted Zedd. "There's no way Rahl could have recovered them so quickly, they were buried under tons of stone. It's likely they were destroyed."

"And Zedd is the last Wizards of the first order," interjected Kahlan. "With Giller dead, Rahl would have no one to operate them. We saw Giller die ourselves."

Crestfallen, Richard sank back into his chair, resuming his thinking pose. "Well, it was an idea."

* * *

At the center of Gyrfalcon sat an impressive edifice of granite and marble. An immense and imposing square of stone known as the City's Hall. It was from here that the Council of Gyrfalcon ruled, and the City Guard operated.

In an office overlooking the courtyard that separated the Hall from the lane beyond, Magistrate Kledd was contemplating a prisoner. The man had been brought in for fighting in the market, witnesses said he'd attacked a woman without provocation. Under normal circumstances the man would spend a week in the dungeon, and that would be the whole of it. This man however protested the charge, and Kledd was obligated to hear him out before passing sentence.

"I'm telling you," growled Damark as he struggled against the grip of the guardsmen flanking him. "You've got the wrong man."

Kledd sat on the opposite side of a huge oak desk, a massive ledger lying before him on an ink-stained blotter. Neatly arranged piles of scrolls and papers covered the rest of the broad table. He leaned back in his leather-backed chair, sending a cloud of white powder from his wig. He contemplated Damark over arched fingers, carefully considering his words. "Tell me about the horse trader again."

"It's like I said," answered Damark. "I've been following this band of robbers from Brennidon. An old man, a young tough, and the lying temptress that leads them. Pretends she's a Confessor. This morning I was sure I would overtake them, seeing as they were on foot. But they must have been wise to me, because this morning I came across a horse trader, Abbazar, and he'd been murdered. Along with his workers."

"Yes, Abbazar is well known in Gyrfalcon, a friend of the city," nodded the Magistrate. "I'm surprised to hear he's dead. And so then, this woman my guards caught you attacking, you're claiming she is one of these thieves?"

"She's a lying witch!" raged Damark.

"My guards interviewed the crowd. Witnesses claim this girl was causing no harm." The Magistrate picked up a sheet from his desk and considered it. "One woman describes her as 'heavenly'. Hardly sounds like the description of a robber."

"I'm telling you, she's a fraud." growled Damark. "That's what she does, she seduces people with smiles and pretty words. But your guards saw her knives. Ask yourself, what kind of angel carries daggers like that in her boot?"

"If she is a Confessor," suggested the Magistrate, finishing the thought with a lazy wave of his hand. Paired daggers were the weapon of choice for Confessors.

"Then why not wear the garb of a Confessor? What sort of Confessor hides herself in a free city?"

Magistrate Kledd pondered this. He could think of reasons. This warrior before him was clearly an uncouth cur, but he made good points, and long experience had taught Kledd that most thief-takers, bounty hunters, and even city guardsmen were indistinguishable from the criminals they pursued, so he tried not to hold the brute's manners against him. Still, probably best to toss him in the dungeons and let him cool off for a week or so, and hope this woman moves on. Let some other city deal with the problem.

Kledd was about to issue his decision when a young guard entered the room. He bowed, and asked permission to report. The Magistrate gestured at him to carry on.

"Magistrate, the guard reports a trio matching the description of these thieves is staying at the Greedy Goblet. And," the guard paused, obviously bothered by the news he bore. "A road patrol found Abbazar and his assistants. They've been murdered."

"See!" shouted Damark. "I told you! Go arrest them, I'll bet my neck you'll find they have three of Abbazar's horses with them."

"Yes, yes indeed." The Magistrate regarded him coolly. "If you're wrong, and they have no such horses, then my prime suspect becomes you. And I assure you, in Gyrfalcon murder is a hanging offense."

* * *

Kahlan and Richard has settled into the pair of large comfy chairs by the inn's fire, while Zedd sat on the edge of the fire pit itself, absentmindedly poking it with a stick. It hissed and popped in response. They were all tired of trying to solve this puzzle. Richard was out of ideas, and afraid to say anything. Kahlan snapped at him every time he opened his mouth. They needed more clues.

Kahlan's anger, frustration and confusion had given way to sadness. Richard had grown silent,and she knew she was driving him away despite herself. She understood having a goal and striving forward, throwing herself into it entirely. It was the only way she knew to be. She wanted to throw herself into Richard entirely, embrace him completely, but she knew it couldn't happen. She had to push him away to control herself, but she couldn't push too hard, couldn't drive him away entirely. It was balancing act, and she didn't do balancing acts. She couldn't charge in two directions without being torn apart.

The doors of the inn burst open as a dozen guardsmen rushed into the building. Kahlan was snapped out of her reverie, and sat up straight in her chair, while Richard leapt from his. As soon as he was on his feet a guardsman rushed him wielding a man-catcher, and the tines of the device wrapped around Richard, forcing him back in the chair. Kahlan started to rise but found a pair of halbreds leveled at her chest, and sat down in her seat.

Meanwhile a pair of guards circled around the seats and hesitantly approached Zedd, their hands out before them. "Hands where we can see them wizard."

Zedd held his hands up before him and the guards seized his wrists, and hissed to Richard and Kahlan "Don't fight them, I'm sure we can sort this out, there's no need for bloodshed."

As the pair of guardsmen wrestled heavy mitts onto Zedd's hands, the thick leather bound his fingers and would make spellcasting next to impossible, while a third entered the inn through the stable entrance. He shouted to his commander, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the door he'd come through.

"Three horses sir. They all bear Abbazar's brand, just like the thief-taker said. Stable boy confirms they belong to these three."

The commander walked up to Richard and scowled down at him as he removed his thick leather gauntlet, then slapped Richard hard across the face. "You're under arrest horse-thief, and you'll find here in Gyrfalcon we take great pride in hanging murderous scum."

Turning to his men, he barked "Lock them in irons and take them to the Magistrate."

Kahlan and Zedd exchanged worried glances as they were lead from the inn, while Richard struggled against the guards who wrestled his arms behind his back and slapped manacles around his wrists.

"You can't do this, we haven't done anything!" he protested as the guards dragged him through the door. "This isn't happening."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**"A Mild Case of Confusion"**

The dungeon cell was clean, dry and sunlight streamed in through a barred window. Kahlan was sitting quietly on the wide wooden bench that passed for a bed. She thought of Stave's small cottage, and noted that this cell was almost as large, and cleaner. Richard was standing at the wooden door, peering through the small iron grill set in it, and shouting. They had no idea where Zedd had been taken.

"Hello?" he yelled. "We've been here for hours!"

Spinning on his heel, Richard angrily punched the air. He ran both hands through his hair, then balled his hands into fists and turned back to the door, pounding on it. "Come on!"

"That's enough," Kalhan said. Her tone was weary and strained, and Richard relented. He sat down on the bench beside her and took her hand. She smiled weakly at him.

"I just don't get it. What do they think we did?" he grumbled. "Who are these guys?"

"They're the Magistrate," offered Kahlan. "Once Darken Rahl outlawed the Confessors, many of the free cities became lawless. Groups like the Magistrate rose up to keep order. I've heard they're fair enough. Better than Rahl at least."

From the hall beyond the door came the click-clack of hobnailed boots on flagstone. Richard moved to the door and peered out. A thin and reedy middle-aged man in a long blue robe materialize before the door, flanked by a pair of guards.

"Kahlan Amnell," announced the functionary, "is called before the Magistrate to give testimony."

Richard snorted while Kahlan rose and glided to the door.

"I'm ready," she said. One of the guards revealed a heavy key and turned it in the lock, pulling the heavy slab door open.

"I'm coming with you," Richard asserted as he stepped through the door.

The guards bristled immediately. One of them growled "Step back."

Richard stood in the doorway, eying the guard. Kahlan put her hand on his shoulder and drew him back in the cell. "I'll be fine Richard, I can take care of myself."

She stepped through the door, and the functionary curtsied and waved Kahlan down the hall. Holding her head high she swept past him and calmly strode down the hall. The functionary hustled to keep up with her. The guards and Richard exchange intimidating stares, and then slammed the door shut.

* * *

Zedd was sitting in large and comfortable leather chair, his still-gloved hands laid out on the polished marlnut table that the guard had seated him at. The Sword of Truth lay on the table before him. That guard now stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes focused on Zedd. Zedd smiled at him, but the guard only glowered, daring him to do something. The mitts were fairly easy to remove, but without aid it was hard to do with speed and subtlety, and this guard knew it. He clearly had no intention of being cooked with wizard's fire.

Zedd studied the room. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, which were full of tomes and scrolls. Various trophies and object of art were given places of honor amongst the books. A large globe set in a pedestal sat near the door opposite the guard. His eyes were drawn back to the trophies. A gold filigree gauntlet laid over a wooden frame seemed familiar. He tried to remember where he'd seen it before. The door opened and Zedd looked up, and remembered immediately when he'd last seen the glove.

"Anclara!" he exclaimed as the antiquarian entered the library, and he took stock of her. Lines he didn't remember crinkled the corners of her eyes, and delicate reading glasses were perched on her nose. Her hair was still pulled back in a severe bun, but once chestnut gold hair was now streaked with white and grey. Still, she was as beautiful as the last time he saw her. Her dress was pale earth tones, subtle as always, but clearly of much finer cut and cloth than the utilitarian peasant garb she'd preferred when they last knew each other. She'd risen in social status. "By the stars, how long as it been!"

"Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, I hoped it might be you." she smiled broadly. Turning to the guard she ordered Zedd's release from the heavy leather mitts that bound his hands. The guard stepped forward and grabbed the mitts, and struggled to pull them off. Zedd put a foot on his knee for leverage and shoved hard and the mitts popped off. Zedd's leg kicked out straight, and sent the guard tumbling. He grumbled and got to his feet, face flush and ready to make an issue of it.

"You're dismissed," Anclara icily informed the guard, and he collected himself and stormed out of the room, his eyes never leaving Zedd till the door was closed.

"How have you been?" she asked as she took a seat across from him. She was smiling, and Zedd found himself dumbstruck. He mumbled a response, words failing him. She laughed, a light dulcet tinkle of a laugh. "Is this it? The real Sword of Truth?"

She ran her fingers along the gleaming silver blade.

"Yes," Zedd stammered. "Anclara, what are you doing here?"

"I got to old for field work Zedd," Anclara teased. "The Magistrate of Gyrfalcon offered me a position here at the City Hall, curator of the city's collection. I also advise him on matters of magic, such as wizards."

"I see you've added some of your own finds to their collection. That's the Gauntlet of Adrione, isn't it?" asked Zedd, glancing at the filigree glove, and Anclara nodded. He smiled, and asked "Do you remember when we retrieved that from the Tomb of Martek?"

"I remember Zedd," she laughed. "Those were good times. Then you left."

She regarded him seriously. He swallowed hard, and she laughed. "I'm teasing Zedd. Your daughter was in Brennidon during the massacre. You disappeared afterwards. And now here you are, traveling with the Seeker. I've figured it out, and you don't have to explain."

Zedd offered a smile, but he couldn't hide the guilt in his eyes. He searched for words, but none came.

"Or apologize," she said softly as she reached out to touch his hand, and the look she gave him then positively smoldered.

"You know," Zedd laughed nervously. "Your friend the Magistrate has the Seeker and the Mother Confessor in his dungeon."

"Don't worry," Anclara laughed again, waving off his concern and reassured him. "It's clearly a case of mistaken identity. A man was brought in this morning and he identified you and your companions as horse thieves. Honestly Zedd, horse thieves. It's ridiculous."

"Clearly he was attempting to throw the Guard off his own crimes. Your friends will be fine Zedd. Magistrate Kledd is a good man, very fair and very smart. You'd like him, he has a sharp mind, very analytical. He's done a good job here. If your one of your companions really is the Mother Confessor, the truth will out itself soon enough."

"I'm sure they'll join us after they've spoken to Kledd," Anclara said softly as she reached out across the table and ran a finger along the edge of Zedd's hand. The old wizard flushed, and she indicated a shelf behind her with a nod of her head. "There's a bottle of Cyrillian wine and glasses over there, and we have the whole evening to catch up. Would you?"

Zedd smiled and waved a hand towards the wine, and the bottle glided across the room, followed by two glasses. The cork removed itself from bottle as it upended in mid-air,pouring out a glass for each of them. Anclara and Zedd reached for their glasses as the bottle settled onto the table.

* * *

"I sincerely apologize if my men gave you any trouble. Their orders were to treat you with respect."

Kahlan stood across from the Magistrate Kledd, who was leaning back in his chair contemplating her. He liked what he saw, she had an genuine air of nobility and honesty that reassured him that his conjectures about the supposed thief-taker were correct.

"The professionalism of the Gyrfalcon Guard is a testament to the quality of the city's leadership," Kahlan offered demurely. Kledd's eyes gleamed in response to the compliment -- he was clearly a man who valued professionalism highly -- but he was otherwise nonplussed. Kahlan took a moment to appreciate the man's talent. She was a skilled observer of the subtle expressions of emotion that constantly played across the human face, and Magistrate Kledd's face was an almost perfect mask.

Almost perfect. Behind his crinkled and smiling eyes and his relaxed body language, she saw the cold mechanical ticking of a mind like a clockwork. She would be foolish to underestimate the man, and knew she had to tread carefully.

"I hope you understand, here in Gyrfalcon we take justice seriously," he explained as he leaned forward. "With the Confessors gone, we are forced to rely on reason and logic to discern the guilty. Because we cannot know the truth with certainty, we must take extra precautions, we cannot simply assume guilt. We must investigate all claims."

"I applaud your commitment to justice Magistrate Kledd," Kahlan offered politely. "I'm happy to oblige you in your effort to seek the truth."

"That is excellent, excellent," Kledd smiled. "It happens that we have a man in custody who I suspect may have murdered a horse trader."

"A horse trader?" Kahlan asked, surprised. She tried to remember the name of the trader from the day before. "Abbazar?"

"Yes," answered Kledd, his head turning ever so slightly as he regarded her. "You know him?"

"He gave us three horses yesterday," offered Kahlan, feeling slightly unnerved by his stare. "I'm surprised to hear he's dead."

"Yes," Kledd answered slowly, still regarding Kahlan oddly. "The man we have in custody claims you and your companions are horse thieves, disguising yourself as heroes, but I suspect he's trying to throw me off his trail. My men found his horse, and like yours it bears an Abbazar mark. I have little reason to trust him, but I would be remiss if I didn't investigate his alibi."

Kledd chuckled, and when Kahlan regarded him queerly, he offered "I was just thinking how much simpler my job would be if I had your power."

"If you suspect this man of murder, I could confess him. I know that Gyrfalcon no longer relies -"

"Oh no Confessor," Kledd interrupted. "We have not abandoned the old ways, only adapted to the current situation and Rahl's insane obsessions. I would be extremely grateful for any assistance you could render."

He gestured to the pair of guards by the door. "Fetch the prisoner."

The guards saluted and filed out of the room. Kledd smiled at Kahlan and leaned back in his chair.

"They'll be back in a moment," he explained. "We'll have this all sorted out in a moment."

* * *

Richard watched the sun setting over the city through the window of his cell, and returned to pacing.

His hands ached from pounding on the door, and he felt tired. He just wanted to know what was happening, why they were here. He walked to the window and peered out.

"What do you want?" he shouted. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can make a deal. Please! I just want to know what's going on!"

* * *

"Mordkainen!" shouted Zedd as he laughed heartily and slapped the table, while Anclara smiled wryly and sipped on her wine. "I'd forgotten all about that!"

Zedd leaned back in his chair and exhaled, as his low rumbling laugh subsided. An aftershock brought chuckles. He looked at Anclara and cocked an eyebrow.

"You know that was his sister, right?"

Anclara spit wine across the table in a fine spray and her eyes went wide in surprise as she burst out laughing, which set Zedd off again,

* * *

The door opened with a loud click, and Kledd and Kahlan turned to look, each maintaining their polite facades. The guards escorted a tall, broad-shoulder man in a tunic into the room, each keeping a firm grip on his arms. Kahlan's cheek twitched as she suppressed her shock. It was Damark.

Damark tensed at the sight of her, his jaw clenched tight. He said nothing.

Kledd looked at Damark and then Kahlan. "Have you met?"

"That's the witch I've been chasing since Brennidon." spat out Damark angrily. "She's no confessor, she's just a lying fraud."

Kahlan winced at the accusation. As of late she had questioned herself so much, fearing that she had let her feelings for Richard cloud her judgment, that she had lost her focus. Damark's words hit home in ways he could never imagine.

"This man is -" Kahlan began, but Damark interrupted her by pulling his arms free from the guards and stepping forward. As he came forward he dropped to his knees, hands chained behind his back, and bared his neck to her. For all the submission in his form, his eyes were full of fury and rage.

"Confess me!" he commanded angrily.

Kahlan took a step back and looked at Magistrate Kledd, who returned a deadly cold and steely gaze.

"Come on!" Damark shouted. "Come on Mother Confessor, show these men your power, force me to tell the truth, confess all my misdeeds."

"The man is volunteering Mother Confessor," Kledd added icily. "I for one would like to get to the bottom of this once and for all."

Kahlan stepped forward and put her hand on the man's neck. She let go, let the power flow from her into Damark. There was nothing. He was already confessed, and the power simply would not flow. Damark twitched in her grip, slumping back.

"Command me, Confessor."

Kahlan released the breath she didn't realized she was holding. On the other side of the desk Kledd relaxed, and seemed genuinely relieved. He started to gesture to the guards when Damark snorted. Damark turned to look at Kledd, and Kledd's eyebrow twitched with shock. Damark sneered and said "I told you the witch was lying."

"No," protested Kahlan. "I confessed this man earlier. Before we came Gyrfalcon."

"She's lying your honor," shouted Damark, drowning out her protest as he rose smoothly to his feet. He held up his chained wrists behind his back and shook them at the guards. "She's lying or she's insane. Probably both!"

Kledd frowned, clearly disappointed by this turn of events. He nodded to the guards, and one stepped forward to unlock Damark's manacles. Kledd regarded Kahlan with a look of deep disappointment. Gesturing to the other guard as he turned his back to her and regarded the courtyard beyond his window, he said "Return her to her cell, I'll decide her punishment in the morning."

"Your honor," protested Damark, "with all due respect, I have chased this woman across the Midlands. She's wanted for serious crimes in Brennidon, and I've been paid to bring her home. Release her into my custody. I'll be out of the city within the hour, and you can wash your hands of all of this."

"No," Kahlan shouted. "This isn't right, this man is lying. I confessed him and..."

Damark stepped forward and grabbed Kahlan's arm, his grip grinding bones in her wrist. "Nobody believes your nonsense!" he growled.

Kledd continued to silently stare out. After a long moment he finally said "Turn the woman over to the thief-taker. I want them out of the city immediately. I don't wish to see either of you again."

Damark took the manacles from the guard and slapped them on Kahlan's wrists as she struggled and protested. The same guard escorted Damark and his prisoner from the office, and as Damark dragged Kahlan from the room she was still screaming her innocence.

Magistrate Kledd listened to her protests echo off the hall as they receded in distance. Finally he turned to the remaining guard and offered "It's sad, to see someone impersonate a Confessor. For a moment I felt real hope, I wanted so badly to have a Confessor in Gyrfalcon. She seemed so convincing. I really believed she was who she claimed to be. It just shows you the power emotions have to cloud reason and judgment."

Kledd returned to contemplating the courtyard beyond his window. The guard offered no opinion.

* * *

Richard paced back and forth. He'd measured the exact dimensions of this cell a dozen times. Eight paces across, fourteen paces long. He walked to the door, shouting through the small grill. His voice echoed down the hall, but there was no response. There was never a response.

He slumped against the door, sliding down into a heap. He pulled his knees up and folded his arms over his head. He was never getting out of this cell. He would never see Kahlan again. Never see Zedd again. Darken Rahl had won, he was going to die forgotten in this cell. He knew it.

* * *

"Please, you don't understand, this man is under some sort of spell!" pleaded Kahlan, but the guardsman escorting them ignored her. "I am the Mother Confessor!"

Damark held the chain of her manacles tightly, jerking her roughly as she tried to persuade the guardsman, and it made her effort seem all the more comical. Frustrated Kahlan struggled the chains, which only provoked Damark to growl and yank harder. She staggered forward and dropped to a knee. Damark responded by simply pulling her off her feet and dragging her down the hall, slipping and sliding across the smooth marble tile floor.

"She's got some spirit, doesn't she." chuckled the guard. "Don't envy having to watch this one all the way to Brennidon."

They came to stable entryway, and the guardsman held the door open for Damark. Struggling on the floor, Kahlan readied herself. Silently she asked the spirits to forgive her for what she was about to do. Damark let go of her chain and grabbed her roughly by the arm, hauling her to her feet, and she lunged forward, reaching out for the guardsman. He reacted by jerking his head back, his eyes gone wide with shock.

Her fingers grazed the skin of his cheek, she felt the line of his jaw, and by then Damark had a fistful of her hair, and yanked hard, snapping her head back and cracking her entire body like a whip. Still holding onto her hair, he slammed her into the frame of the door and she fainted as wave of pain passed through her.

Moments later when she came to consciousness she panicked. Everything was dark. No, there was bag over her head. The dry and dusty smell of oats indicated a feed bag. She tried to scream but Damark had gagged her with a wadded up piece of cloth. Probably torn from her dress. The thought angered her. Her hands and feet were bound, and from the motion and pressure on her ribs, she knew she must be strapped to the back of a horse.

She struggled, but it was futile.

* * *

"I'm entirely serious Zeddicus, you should consider it," Anclara said as she stood and walked to a bookshelf behind Zedd's head. She pulled out a heavy leather-bound tome. "Sinthra's Astrolabe would allow you to predict Rahl's exact location days in advance of his arrival there. Rather than chase around after him like a headless chicken, you could head straight to where you know he'll be."

She leaned over him and placed the book down. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he could feel her bosom pressed against his back. Butterflies danced in his stomach as she flipped through pages, and he wondered for a moment about the perfume she was wearing. He turned to face her and found himself starring at the graceful expanse of her bare neck. She turned her head, catching his eye and whispered softly "If you'll just look here."

He looked down at the illustration she indicated, a hand drawing of an astrolabe more complex then any he'd seen before. Finally he stammered "I've heard of it, but I thought Sinthra's tower was lost."

Anclara stood, her fingers running along his shoulder, and Zedd turned in his seat to face her, looking up at her with fond eyes, a question forming on his lips as the door to the library opened. The thin and reedy functionary in the long blue robe poked his head in the door. His eyebrows went up as he recognize that he'd interrupted a tender moment, and meekly announced "Pardon me Madame Anclara, but Magistrate Kledd would like to see you."

The functionary considered Zedd for moment, and then added "Is that -" but the question trailed off as he searched for the right words.

"Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander," Anclara offered, adding "First Wizard."

Zedd acknowledge the title with a bow, though he did not rise from his seat.

"You mean he's a real wizard?" squeaked the functionary, suddenly flustered. Anclara laughed and assured the nervous bureaucrat he was.

"But the Confessor and Seeker are false?" he asked hopefully. Zedd and Anclara exchanged puzzled glances. Zedd noted that he felt a bit drunk, and suddenly wondered how long he and Anclara had been talking. He was surprised to find that the sun had set.

"Derwin," Anclara voice was suddenly sharp and strict, the librarian's tone of warning Zedd remembered from their earliest encounters. "Magistrate Kledd released the Seeker and the Mother Confessor, didn't he?"

Derwin blinked. Then he blinked again.

"Derwin, what did the Magistrate do?" Zedd asked, rising to his feet and leaning forward as if he might come over the table at the poor functionary.

"Magistrate Kledd turned the false Confessor over to a thief-taker from Brennidon." Derwin said, gulping. Then he added "The young man is to be hanged in the morning."

Zedd looked at Anclara incredulously, she was dumbfounded, a look he hadn't seen on her face often. She rushed around the desk and barreled past Derwin, loudly protesting to no one in particular that the whole situation was "Impossible!"

Zedd followed her out of the library and into the hall, summoning the Sword of Truth to his hand with a wave as he rushed from the room. Derwin starred intently at the ground, shrinking away from the wizard as he approach. She had grabbed her dress in her hands and was storming down the hall in a decidedly unladylike fashion. Zedd hurried after, demanding to know what had happened.

"You'll know when I know," she shouted as she ran.

* * *

Richard was sitting on the bench, starring at the small patch of weak light cast by the half moon out his window. Obviously the Magistrate intended to let him sit in this cell overnight, and there was nothing to be done about it. Anger, worry, despair, none of these were of any use. He lay back on the bench and closed his eyes. Might as well try to make the best of it and get some sleep.

He was just ready to drift off when he heard the clacking of boots coming from far down the hall. He opened his eyes, but the sound was gone. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Then the click clack again, and the sound resumed. Definitely boots, and from the sound of it several pairs.

Richard swung his legs off the bench and hopped to his feet, rushing to the door. Pushing his face against the grill he tried in vain to see down the hall.

"Hello?" he shouted. "Kahlan?"

"Richard!" came the response, but the voice was Zedd's.

Richard could hear the old wizard rushing toward the door, and soon he materialized in front of the small window.

"Don't worry son, we'll have you out of there in the moment."

He held up the Sword of Truth and passed it through the grill.

"Where's Kahlan?" Richard asked impatiently, watching Zedd step aside as the pair of guards reached the door with the key to the cell. Richard was just belting his scabbard around his waist when the door opened. He met Zedd in the hall and demanded knowledge of Kahlan. He took note of two unfamiliar faces, the first an older man with a long face and hawkish countenance in long black robes and a powdered wig, and the other a severe looking middle-aged woman in drab finery. "And who are they?"

"I am Magistrate Kledd, Seeker." offered the wigged man. He bowed slightly while offering his hand. Richard shook his hand but looked at him questioningly.

"Zedd, where's Kahlan." Richard asked again, looking at the old wizard.

"I must offer my most humble and sincere apologies. There has been grave mistake," the Magistrate continued. "I assure you we are doing everything we can to recover the Mother Confessor."

"Will someone just tell me what's going on?" yelled Richard.

* * *

It had been several minutes since Kahlan had felt the horse move . The air felt warm, and she was dry. Before there had been rain. She could hear voices far off in the distance, celebrating, happy voices. She could only smell oats. She was certain Damark was not on the horse. What was happening?

She struggled against the ropes. If she could roll off the horse, get on the ground maybe she could find some way to free herself. She bucked and thrashed, but her efforts only seemed to make the ropes tighter. The horse neighed in protest and stomped its feet.

"Too late to get away now, Confessor," laughed Damark as he slapped across her rear. "I've got what we came for."

Damark mounted the horse and they were moving again. Kahlan tried her best to hear what was happening. They were moving down city streets. Now they were stopping, and Damark was arguing with someone. They were moving again.

It was colder, and the wind had picked up. She couldn't hear people moving about anymore, the yelling and cavorting of the city at night. She pricked her ears and thought she head the rhythmic chirping of crickets accompanied by frogs.

Damark and his captive had left the city.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**"Love Lies Bleeding"**

They had been riding for what felt like hours. Kahlan's midsection ached. They were moving at a slow trot, and each step the horse took sent a shock through her ribs. Lying over the back of this damn horse in a corset was putting unbearable pressure on her stomach and chest, and she was nauseas and struggling to breath. Her mouth was unbearably dry thanks to the scrap of cloth in her mouth and the oat dust in the bag. Her eyes were bleary and full of dust. She didn't even want to think about what hours with her head in this damn canvas bag had done to her hair.

They stopped. She could feel Damark loosening the ropes binding her to the horse. She could have flopped right off the back of the horse if she wanted, but her hands were still chained behind her back, and her feet tied together. Patience, she thought, wait for the perfect moment, not _a_ moment.

Damark ran his hand along the outside of her thigh, and down across her calves. He began tugging at the ropes binding her ankles, and inside the bag she smiled. Now Damark was pulling her off the horse, setting her on her feet, and turning her around to face him. As he pulled the bag off she crouched imperceptibly, tensing herself.

"You're friends can't find us now," chuckled Damark as he confidently removed the sack from her head, mocking words forming on his lips, his body language clearly indicating his certainty that he was in control of the situation. He leaned in close, close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her face as the bag came off.

Kahlan was sneering at him, her contempt for him clear, and for a heartbeat Damark paused. In that moment his certainty faltered and Kahlan struck, launching forward and straightening her legs, her back, her neck. Her whole body became her weapon. In all she moved only a few inches, but all of her strength was focused in that inch, and her forehead connected with Damark's surprised face with a thunderous crack.

Damark staggered backwards, blood spraying from his shattered nose. He tripped and landed hard on the seat of his pants, and immediately flopped on his belly as his tailbone protested angrily. Kahlan didn't pause to gloat, she transition smoothly from headbutt to full out run.

The forest was dark, but lightly wooded, with little overgrowth, and the bright starry sky allowed enough light for Kahlan to make her way. She had no idea which way she was going, and suddenly wished she had paid more attention to Richard's digression on woodlands lore. He was always sharing trivial information with her, and she swore he had mentioned something about moss only growing on a certain side of trees.

She tried to remember, and could recall the when and where of the conversation perfectly, but when she tried to remember what Richard had said, she could only think of the stormy blue of his eyes and the delicious curve of his lips. She dismissed the image with a shake of her head. She stopped, casting about, and cursed herself. Silly lovestruck little girl, she thought, should have paid more attention to what he was saying.

She looked at the moon, but it hung high in the sky, and she had no idea how late in the night it was. The moon provided no clue. If they had left through the Eastern gate of Gyrfalcon along the road to Brennidon, and if then turned North off the main road, she would need to head south and west to find the main road. She had to get back to Gyrfalcon and rescue Richard.

Damark was crashing through the woods behind her, hot on her trail. She had to get moving, but running around with no sense of where she was going would only exhaust her.

She concentrated, trying to remember what Richard had said. Again she found herself thinking of his lips, and her thoughts at the time, but the words were lost. She tried to dismiss the image again, the shape of his lips, his tongue flickering in his mouth as he formed a word. What was he saying? She imagined the movement of his lips, his tongue, repeating the movements herself, and found herself saying "North."

North! The moss Richard had described, it grew on the north side of trees. She rushed to the nearest tree, and walked slowly in a circle examining it. There was the lichen she had sought. She positioned herself so that she faced the tree. If she turned slightly to her right, and ran straightforward, that should take her to the road. If they'd left by the East Gate, and turned North. She sensed they had, but couldn't explain her reasoning to herself. It was just something she knew.

She looked up and saw Damark, closing fast and screaming obscenities at her. She sniffed indignantly, and started running, aiming for what she hoped would be the main road. She thanked the stars for small fortunes. She was wearing her green dress, which would make her harder for Damark to spot. Chancing a look over her shoulder, she saw that Damark was falling behind her. She was naturally swifter of foot than the heavily built soldier, and he was further burdened by his heavy chainmail and the multiple weapons slung from his belt. She was confident she could outrun him.

She looked forward towards her path and her eyes went wide as saucers as the path dropped sharply, the open forest giving way to steep slope ending in a stream. Kahlan overextended her step, and her foot came down hard on the hem of her dress. The skirt was pulled tight and she stumbled, pitching forward. She cursed herself as she tumbled head over heels down the hill.

She reached the bottom of the slope, battered and bruised thanks to the chains binding her arms. As she rolled forward, she found her feet underneath and tried to hop forward and keep to her feet. She was too dizzy, and pitched forward. She tried to throw her arms out to catch her fall but the chains made it impossible. As she hurtled towards the ground a large smooth river rock caught her eye, and then she she crashed into it.

Unlike Damark's nose, it did not submit to her headbutt, and Kahlan's world went suddenly dark.

* * *

Richard spurred the horse again, racing ahead of the pack of guardsmen on his heels. Zedd spurred his horse as well, struggling to keep up with Richard. The Magistrate had been quite accommodating, lending him a dozen men to hunt down the Confessor and her captor, and a good thing too. When Kledd had explained the 'understandable blunder' he'd made, it had taken all of Richard's willpower, as well as Zedd and two of the Magistrate's men to prevent him from running the apologetic judge through.

Fortunately the Magistrate's City Guard was an efficient operation, and they were able to quickly determine that Damark had left through the East Gate after a brief stop at the Greedy Goblet. As the party raced down the East Road, Richard felt his stomach tighten and knot with growing anxiety.

Outside the gates of the city the forests of Midland stretched for a hundred miles and more, in every direction. Somewhere out there Kahlan was being held prisoner by a madman she couldn't confess. Richard had no idea how he would find her.

* * *

When Kahlan regained consciousness she found herself slung over Damark's shoulder. They were walking. She wondered how long she'd been out. The bag was back over her head, she noted with some frustration. It was lighter now, and instead of darkness she could see the warm beige of the canvas. The sun must have risen.

Her feet were still unbound, she could tell her knees were pressed against Damark's chest, his arm hooked behind her knees. She twisted about, and Damark's arm slid up to her rear, trying to push her back up on his shoulder. She took advantage of his imbalance to kick out and then bring her knees in quickly, knocking the wind out of Damark.

She tumbled to the ground as he fell, and rolled away from him. She curled her knees into her chest and forced the chain binding her wrists over her rear, and wiggled through. Her hands were still bound, but at least now she could catch herself if she fell.

She struggled to her knees, and then hopped to her feet. A wave of frustration and anger swept through her as she looked around and saw only the inside of the damn bag. Her head was pounding, and she'd already bashed it against a door frame and rock in the last few hours. She didn't need to run headlong into a tree.

A boot slammed into her calf, and she dropped to her knees, making the question of where to run moot. Damark put a heavy hand on her shoulder, pushing her down, as he pulled the bag off her. "You know you broke my nose, bitch."

Thanks to her headbutt, the words had came out 'oow whoa oow bwoke my wose, bwitch.' Kahlan suppressed a laugh as Damark hauled her to her feet and spun her around. She noted with satisfaction that she'd split the soldier's lip open wide. He'd have a permanent scar.

"Don't try to run again, or I'll break your legs." he threatened, but it came out "dwont twy twue wun oor owl bweak yoor wegs' and Kahlan couldn't help herself. She laughed. As she chuckled Damark's hand lashed out and smacked her across the face. 'Wont ooh waff at me' he screeched.

He dragged her forward and shoved her ahead of him, and she held her head up high as he marched her down the path, smiling to herself as the soldier grumbled and fiddled with his nose. She looked around her, trying to get a sense of where they were. Something about this stretch of forest seemed familiar.

"Where are you taking me," she asked nonchalantly.

"You'll find out," the soldier grumbled.

"I don't understand what happened Damark," she mused. "How can you hate me?"

"Don't act like you don't know what you did," he growled.

"I really don't," she said, shooting a glance at the warrior. He responded by shoving her forward and she turned her eyes back to the path.

After several minutes of walking in silence Damark muttered "You broke my heart."

Kahlan realized she where she knew this patch of forest from. They were heading to the spot where Rahl's patrol had attacked them, the place where she had confessed Damark. She felt her stomach knot with anxiety.

* * *

The sun hung low over the horizon, and already the morning dew was burning away as Richard pulled up his horse. It whinnied in protest. Abbazar was right, his horses were fine. They'd run all night, and the mare was chomping at the bit to keep going. Zedd pulled up along side him, followed by the dozen guardsmen.

"What's the problem Richard?" he asked.

"We have no idea where Kahlan is," he shouted angrily. "We've already passed a dozen turn offs and paths he could have taken. For all we know we're ahead of them!"

Zedd looked up and down the road, but had no response.

"I'm sorry Richard," he said. "We may have to accept that we've lost Kahlan."

Richard starred at the wizard incredulously, but Zedd would not meet his gaze.

"There is one hope," the wizard offered. "I put an enchantment on her corset. It will alert me should if be unlaced."

"What?" Richard asked loudly, not sure he'd heard the wizard right. "Why in the world would you put an enchantment on Kahlan's corset."

The guardsmen whispered amongst themselves, and a hushed round of snickers passed through the men.

"I see how the two of you look at each other," he explained weakly. "I was just...ah...taking precautions."

"Wonderful," muttered Richard as glared at Zedd. "So if Damark decides to strip down Kahlan, we'll know he's doing it."

"I should get a sense of what direction and how far as well," Zedd offered, not that it made Richard any less angry.

He looked up and down the road. He still had no idea how to find Kahlan.

* * *

"Stop," commanded Damark as he grabbed Kahlan. "This is far enough."

He spun her around and considered her. She held herself up tall and proud, refusing to let the soldier see any of the fear she felt.

Damark dropped his small knapsack to the ground and began rummaging through it. He quickly retrieved a broad bundle of cloth, and Kahlan realized with a shock that it was her Confessor's gown. In his other hand he held a key, which he handed her.

"Take off those manacles," Damark sneered as he held up the dress. "Then strip. I want you wearing this."

"And then what?" she asked, suppressing the urge to shudder as she unlocked the steel cuffs and let them drop to the ground.

"Then we're going to head up there," he said, indicating the ridge beyond them. "And I'm going to slit your throat."

Kahlan and the soldier locked eyes and glared at each other. Slowly she reached behind her back and began to unfasten the dress, her eyes never leaving his. Once it was loose she squirmed and pulled it down, and it dropped to ground,leaving her only wearing her corset and slip.

Damark's eyes drifted down to her cleavage, and he wetted his lips hungrily. Sensing an advantage, Kahlan inhaled and arched her back, giving the soldier a full view. Delicately she traced a finger along the ties that bound the corset across her chest. Damark shifted uncomfortably, his eyes magnetized to her breasts. With a casual tug she unbound the knot and pulled the first lace free.

* * *

Zedd pulled his horse up sharply as the sound of a gong reverberated through his mind. He cast a glance behind them. The sound had come from the northwest. Casting a quick glance around, Zedd quickly cataloged the points they'd passed so far, and realized he knew exactly where Damark had taken Kahlan. In a way it was so obvious he felt a fool for not realizing it earlier. He signaled to Richard, and announced "I know where she is."

"How?" Richard asked, his eyes anxiously scanning the horizon Zedd faced.

"I heard the alarm," he noted, and Richard leaned forward in his saddle, clearly perturbed by the news. Zedd continued, explaining "He's taken her back to where she confessed him. To where this all started."

Richard needed to hear no more, and spurred his horse forward, racing back down the road they'd just traveled. The guardsmen wheeled their horses about and gave pursuit. Richard's brow furrowed as he prayed he would arrive in time to save Kahlan, but he feared the worst.

* * *

Kahlan was toying with the second lace, and a wry smile twisted her lips as Damark unconsciously leaned forward. She brought her hands together and then swung up powerfully, throwing her full weight into a two-fisted wallop. Her balled fists crashed into Damark's broken nose and sent a fresh gout of blood pouring down his face. He flew backwards, laid out by the blow, and Kahlan pounced on him. Her hands found her daggers, tucked in her belt, and she pulled them free.

Damark got his foot up under her and kicked, sending her flying backwards. He rolled and sprung to his feet as she regain her balance. His sword leapt to his hand, and the pair circled each other like angry wolves, each waiting for the other to show a moment's weakness.

Damark broke first, charging at the confessor and screaming obscenities. He thrust out with his sword, but she deflected the blow and spun around, drawing her second dagger across Damark's already ruined face, leaving a deep crimson gash from cheek to cheek and bisecting his already battered nose. Blood poured down his face as he howled.

Their blades clashed again, and Kahlan ducked under his swing, striking out like a snake with her dagger, and it's blade bit into the soldier's belly. If he noticed, he gave no indication. Damark was in a frenzy, and she feared that his rage would overpower her. Most men would have been felled by a cut like the one she'd landed on him, but he seemed only more angry now. She turned and ran. She was still faster than him.

She charged up the hill and Damark came crashing after her. A clearing opened up before her, and she realized this was the spot, the very spot where she had confessed Damark. She turned and saw he was right behind her.

Why had he brought her here, to this place? Why was it so significant to him? She'd allowed herself to think that Damark had somehow slipped free of her control, and was acting of his own free will, but she was realizing this was something more. Something had changed the love Damark felt for her, and the angry warrior attacking her was no more the true Damark than the spineless fawning slave he'd been reduced to when she had first confessed him.

What had happened, she wondered. She realized that she needed to know.

"Damark," she shouted. "Damark something happened to you. I need to know what it was."

"This is where you broke my heart, temptress!" the soldier screamed. "This is where I fell in love with you and you turned me away."

He charged her, swinging his sword high, and she caught his blow between crossed daggers. He pressed the attack, pushing her back. Their eyes met and they snarled at each other.

"That's not what happened," protested Kahlan. "I didn't turn you away. You left!"

"Don't you lie to me," screamed the soldier as he relented from the attack only to launch another. "I was there, I remember what you did! You said you loved me, and then you sent me away!"

"I never said I loved you!" Kahlan argued as she retreated. Damark unleashed a flurry of rapid blows, but Kahlan's daggers were too swift, and she parried each. "I never promised you anything!"

"You think you're too good for me," he screamed as he pressed the attack. "You think you're better than me!"

"That's not true, I don't think that!"

"I loved you and you turned me away you lying witch!'

His sword landed on Kahlan's dagger like a hammer, and the blades sparked as the metal screamed in protest. His blade was notched and blunted from the blows, but that only made it more dangerous to the unarmored Kahlan. Her arms trembled with each blow. If he kept battering away at her like this, her arms would go numb.

Realizing what needed to be done, she stepped back and flung her daggers to the side. She just stood before him, her arms outstretched, completely vulnerable. He raised his sword, ready to run her through, and she said "I accept you."

"I know you love me," she said and the warrior paused, looking at her, confused and lost. He stepped forward, his arms trembling as he held the sword poised over her chest, ready to plunge the blade in. "And I accept you."

The sword fell from Damark's trembling fingers as he fell to his knees and threw his arms around her waist, pressing his face against her stomach, and began sobbing.

"Shhh," she cooed as the warrior sobbed. "Everything is alright now."

She stroked her fingers across the soldier's shaved head, and felt...something. A crackle of energy, and suddenly they were connected. Her eyes grew dark as the power flowed through her and touched the soldier's soul. She could sense it now, something she hadn't felt when she'd touched the soldier. Something dark and twisted had taken hold of the power she had placed in him, and as she connected with that power again, she willed it to be undone. In her mind's eye she saw a skull-like face laughing at her, and she focused her power on that image, obliterating it. The laugh turned to a shriek and she knew the dark spell's power over Damark was broken.

Her knees trembled and she sagged against the soldier, tears streaming down her face as relief swept through her. The dark knots inside Damark unbound, and his body relaxed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Kahlan!" came a cry from the forest. Kahlan looked up, disbelieving. It couldn't be.

"Kahlan!" came the cry again, and she was certain.

"Richard!' she yelled, tears of anguish giving way to tears of joy.

"Kahlan!" came the response, as Richard closed on her position. Moment later he came crashing into the clearing. Kahlan was kneeling in the middle of the field, Damark laying curled up like a baby, his head resting in her lap. She was stroking his head, just as one would a child.

Richard drew to stop, and looked at her quizzically. She raised a finger to her lips and shushed him

"It's alright," she whispered as she looked down at the soldier. "It's over now."


	6. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

**"Gifts and Curses"**

"Damark will be a welcome addition to the guard," Magistrate Kledd offered as he poured wine for his guests. "Once his wounds have healed, that is."

"And you'll keep an eye on him," Kahlan suggested, adding "In case he reverts."

"Yes," agreed Zedd. "We still don't know why he turned in the first place."

"I know Kledd well," Anclara said as she touched Zedd's arm and reassured the wizard. "The Magistrate won't fail the Seeker again."

Kledd nodded his vehement agreement, and Richard grumbled "He'd better not."

"Now, about your mission." ventured Anclara, touching the pair of objects that lay on the table before her. "I have some gifts to help you along the way."

Richard and Kahlan turned to consider the antiquarian curiously, excited by the word 'gift'. Zedd's eyes were on the silk bound scroll resting on the table before Anclara, and a small leather bound book.

She slid the scroll across the table and Zedd snatched it up. He tugged at the silk tie, and unfurled the scroll. It was an ornate map, written in the ancient style, which Zedd knew meant it would be frustratingly complex.

"Where does it lead?" asked Richard, his curiosity piqued by the fine line work of the map.

"The location of the Tower of Sinthra. If the man I procured it from is to believed. It made be a fake, I haven't been able to decipher the clues."

Richard considered the map carefully. There was something strange about it. He looked harder, really focusing, and ghostly text floated up from the depths of the page. It was the strange text of the Book of Counted Shadows. Richard excitedly told the others.

"Excellent Richard," exclaimed Zedd.

"What's at the Tower of Sintha?" Kahlan asked Anclara, carefully considering the older woman.

"An astrolabe. Created by the sorceress Sintha," Anclara explained. "Legends claim it can pinpoint the exact location of any object in time and space."

"Like Rahl," Kahlan said with a smile, instantly understanding. She reached out and touched Anclara's hand. "Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks!" offered Richard absently, still studying the map. Then ruefully added "This whole thing is in riddles!"

Anclara regarded Richard coolly, then allowed herself a slight smile before turning back to Kahlan, saying softly "My other gift is for you."

She slid the book to Kahlan, who opened it to the title page. She read the title aloud.

"_Confession of the Seeker_."

As she flipped through it, the door to the office opened. Derwin poked his head in the door.

"Master, the Seeker and his companions horses are prepared."

Kahlan looked up, then glanced at Richard and Zedd. They both sat up straight, and Zedd rolled up the scroll. Smiling, she turned to the Magistrate and thanked him for his hospitality and help, which provoked another round of apologies, which Kahlan accepted graciously before insisting the trio had to get traveling again.

Anclara followed them as they made their way to the stable, and as they walked Kahlan inquired about the book. Anclara slowed down, allowing Zedd and Richard -- who were discussing the map -- to get ahead of them, and said quietly "Zedd told me something of the situation between yourself and the Seeker. This book is a collection of poetry written by the Confessor Viviane, it recounts the history of many Confessors and the Seekers they loved, the struggles they faced, the burdens they bore. I thought it might help to know you aren't the first..."

Anclara's voice trailed off as Kahlan clasp the book to her chest, batting tears from her eyes.

"Thank you," she said quietly, as she shook Anclara's hand. Anclara left to give her a moment to compose herself, joining Zedd and Richard at the stable's entrance.

As Richard went to check his horse, Zedd turned to Anclara. They exchange fond glances and then Zedd slowly asked "I thought you might give Kahlan the Gauntlet?"

"I considered it," admitted Anclara. "But we don't know why her power failed with that soldier, and the Gauntlet of Adrione is too powerful to trust in the hands of a Confessor who power may be compromised."

The pair fell silent as Kahlan passed them, offering a final goodbye to Anclara before joining Richard. They both mounted their horses and looked expectantly at Zedd, who whispered goodbyes to Anclara.

"Don't pretend this isn't important Zedd," Anclara warned. "You have to find out why this happened."

Zedd promised he would investigate, and then quickly kissed her on the cheek, surprising them both.

"I'll be back," he promised as he went to join Richard and Kahlan. He pondered his next move as they rode out from the stable, turning onto Gyrfalcon's central lane. The question weighed heavily on his mind, and at the same time Kahlan worried about it herself, and what it all meant.

"Hey Kahlan," Richard laughed excitedly, glancing back at Zedd. "Did you know that Zedd put a spell on your underwear?"

Zedd snapped out of his thoughts and stared at Richard, eyes wide as saucers. He dared a glance at Kahlan. Her cheeks were flushed red and her mouth hung open, unable to form words. Sensing his advantage, Zedd spurred his horse and charged down the lane, sending city folk scrambling.

Kahlan seethed as she took up her reins, and tore off after him.

"Zedd!" she screamed as Richard laugh and followed behind her.

**THE END**


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